


Outcast

by thingyoudowiththatthing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anger, F/M, Isolation, Minor Character Death, Mistrust, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence, Witch Burning, almost, not jefferson, rapey asshole frollo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingyoudowiththatthing/pseuds/thingyoudowiththatthing
Summary: Fleeing one world to save your life, you get stuck. Living decades without feeling the years passing only to escape and get captured in yet a new world you don’t belong. You don’t trust men and most certainly not men of power and magic. Yet something about the man they call the Mad Hatter makes you trust him with your life story.





	1. Anywhere

Storybrook was long since back to normal, or as normal as it would ever be you assumed. A curse was no longer resting upon you all, making you forget time and yourselves. The only problem was that remembering was a worse curse to you. With years having passed once again as if it was none, you once again drifted further and further away from the place you belonged. The one place you had long since realized you should never have left.

You had seen him circling you like a prey and you were sure you looked like that to most. A lost, bewildered girl that felt out of place in the world. You weren’t sure what he wanted, but you knew what he was. You wanted nothing to do with him or his tricks.

Luckily he had never spoken to you. He was always just watching. The child always close by. He wasn’t the only one watching, however. Seeing him with the child, almost made you change your mind about him a few times. You should hate him. He was everything you hated. Powerful, magic, self-assured, male.

He just also reminded you of a man you never hated. A man that performed on the streets. Played with the children and made them gush and aw much like Jefferson did playing hide and seek with his daughter or making minor objects appear behind her ears much to her glee. You watched how gently he pushed her on the swings and how he always caught her jumping off. She trusted him too and he never let her down.

Maybe you could trust him, but it wasn’t like trusting him meant anything after all. You knew every story. You knew every magic bean and hat. You knew their limits. Even if you weren’t quite sure if the hat could work the miracle you so desperately wanted, you knew you could never ask that of the man smiling at you every day in hope that one day you might see that he understood.

If anyone understood the curse of remembering something or someone they’d rather forget it was the man driven mad by his loss. The man that had finally started to regain some sense of himself with the return of his daughter into his care.

He saw the same pained look in your eyes he had seen in the mirror for decades. He knew you had lost someone or something. More than that he also saw the fire slowly dying. You weren’t going mad from your grief as he did. You were simply slowly withering away. So he made a choice, one he wasn’t sure he if was going to regret. There was something about you though. Something that made him trust you and want to ease your pain. You wouldn’t abandon him or trap him in a faraway world with you. He had seen the small smiles when you watched him and his Grace. You understood she was all he had and all that it had taken for him to lose and regain his sanity.

“Hi there,” Jefferson approached you slipping around the tree you were leaning against. You jumped, glaring up at him. You hadn’t noticed him coming up behind you. You frowned looking around, noticing instantly the absence of his child.

“I’ve seen you been watching me,” Jefferson tried, but the truth was he was a bit rusty approaching people. Truthfully he might never have been all that good at it. He liked the theatrics and having people think they knew him when they really didn’t. For some reason that wasn’t what he wanted with you. He wanted you to see all of him. Trust him.

“Where is your daughter?” You looked around, giving him a suspicious look. Whatever he wanted it couldn’t be good. It couldn’t come without a price. It never did with magic folk like him. Everything came with a price. Usually, much steeper than the person paying it could ever predict.

“She’s with a friend. Henry. Sheriff and Mayor’s kid.” Jefferson pulled a face at the last word. There was no love lost between him and Emma, but Regina was the direct cause of years worth of suffering and madness. He had chosen to let it go. For the sake of Grace. But that didn’t mean he enjoyed the thought of his child potentially ending up anywhere near the evil queen, even if that wasn’t completely all evil anymore.

“I was thinking you and me could go on a small trip,” Jefferson suggested, flipping the hat off his head, spinning it between his fingers.

Your eyes instantly narrowed at the man and you hissed, “ **How about you fuck off?** ” You twirled around on your heels heading back down into town to find a new hideaway for the day. Far away from the Mad Hatter and the likes of him.

“Anywhere you wanna go?” Jefferson called out after her, not really knowing what else to do. He had thought she would have jumped at the chance to find whatever it was she was morning.

You stopped in your tracks, taking a deep breath before turning back around to look at him. The smirk on his face made you wanna storm towards him and slap him silly, but he was trying to help so you bite down your anger. It was hard. The mistrust of any man, especially the ones of magic and power, ran deep. Only you had nothing left to lose by trusting him.

“Even a place without magic?” you asked, causing the man in front of you to smile.

“Every place holds magic unless magic keeps it at bay,” he answered, twirling the hat and a swirl of blue surrounded it. The hatter offered you his hand, hesitating for a moment you took it and jumped with him into the hat. How you could be both inside it and it being back in his hand you’d never understand. You weren’t quite the witch people had believed you to be, back when you were from.

“Tell me where you want to go, Y/N,” Jefferson asked as you wide-eyed looked around the seemingly endless room of doors.

“Paris,” your voice were quiet but almost meek. You were afraid to return but you knew you had to. The people… Your people you had left behind still needed you. You needed them.

You heard his voice. You heard him ask you to stay close. That the only way to return was together. You heard the pain in his voice. It was the pain that broke you from your trance and your eyes met his steel blue ones.

“I won’t betray you. You have my word,” you promised and Jefferson nodded quietly as he picked a door stepping through with you right behind him.

The sight that met you was nothing like you had foreseen. It was not the Paris you had left behind. You knew that. Deep down you knew that and still you had never felt more lost as you watched the cars flash by in the city you barely even recognized.


	2. The Man and the Monster

Panic overtook you. It wasn’t the world and time in itself. You had gotten used to all of without realizing it when you were transported to Storybrooke and the modern world. It was your home. Seeing how it changed and how you no longer belonged.

You didn’t hear Jefferson call your name, trying to figure out where you were going. You were too busy doing that on your own. You twirled around, your eyes scanned against the skyline. As soon as you saw her the majestic symbol of the city you once called home, your body reacted and you ran. In and out between cars honking their horns and people on bikes screaming at you. You didn’t hear Jefferson call out to you in panic or even feel him chase after you until he finally caught up.

His hand closing around your elbow, jerking you back caused you to let out a surprised gasp as you stumbled and fell. Right at the near the old docks near the cathedral. You screamed falling to the ground, but Jefferson didn’t react to your fear. All he felt was the betrayal all over again. You had promised you would stay by his side. You had promised and he had trusted you. He had no idea why. Something had drawn you to him; made him want to help you and you had run.

“You promised to stay together,” Jefferson snarled at you. The only thing ringing through his mind was the fear of never seeing his daughter again. He was so terrified of losing her all over again that he didn’t see the fear in your eyes. You, however, recognized the terror in his and somehow managed to calm your own.

He didn’t mean to hurt you. He hadn’t even meant for you to fall. You saw that the moment you started apologizing and a flicker of concern passed through his blue eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I lived here. I got taken away by magic. It’s been decades. Centuries. Seeing it again…” you rambled, but stopped when Jefferson gently reached down to you, helping you back on your feet.

Your eyes were nailed to your feet, never once daring to meet his look. It was quiet between the two of you for what felt like hours as Jefferson shifted on his feet. Neither of you were sure what to do with each other. Both broken, with what felt like millennia of baggage between you.

“You… you lived here?” Jefferson tried, breathing a small sigh of relief when you finally looked up at him. He hadn’t meant to scare you like that. Honestly, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Just for a brief moment, all he could see was himself getting trapped in another land without Grace. For years, going mad, searching for a way back to her.

It hadn’t happened. You didn’t mean for that to happen. He knew that. He had felt the warmth in your eyes as you had observed the two of them together. Jefferson wasn’t sure why but her watchful eyes had put him at ease in a way he hadn’t felt since Grace’s mother was alive.

“I did. It’s here the story began actually,” you started telling him of the pair of young gypsies caught by the self-righteous judge that wanted to punish everyone but himself. You told him of the deacon of the cathedral and how he had saved the deformed child from the judge’s murderous hand.

“The judge… he killed his parents. He was scared of the judgment of the gargoyles. They watched his crime and with them God,” you spoke. “So he convinced the deacon to let the child grow up in the bell tower.” The bells sounded over the city just as you spoke and your eyes teared up.

Jefferson shifted on his feet. He wasn’t sure how to react. He wasn’t good at this. Only with Grace. With her, he always knew just what to say or what to do, but this strong, powerful woman standing in front of him in tears numbed him. So he did nothing. He just stayed quiet, waiting for you to gather yourself enough to finish your story.

“The judge called him Quasimodo. It means…” you started only for Jefferson to interrupt you with a look of disgust on his face.

“Half-formed,” he finished your sentence. The look on his face ignited a flame inside of you and for a moment you were about to scream at him until you saw the pain behind his eyes. He felt for your friend. His disgust wasn’t for the man with the kind heart that saved you in the end. It was for the man who had given him such a cruel name. Jefferson might have once been a man that only seemed to care about himself, if he ever truly had been you didn’t know. Maybe he had been once, but love and a child had changed him. Or maybe it was a mask he put on to survive in a world that only viewed him as being different and scary. Much like your deformed friend with the purest heart you’d ever known.

Either way at that moment your affections for the man in front of you grew. He was worthy of your trust and your story. Maybe telling it would set you free, even if you could never go back to the streets you had once loved and hated at the same time. The streets that had been your childhood and adult home until you had been ripped away, by one man’s greed.

“He spent his life inside these walls,” you laid your hand on the walls of the church. “He never ran free or danced in the square with the other kids. He never even spoke to anyone his own age.”

You lowered your eyes in shame as you relaid the next part of the story for Jefferson. “I grew up hearing stories of the monster in the bell tower and the man that had brought him there. Only it was the monster that kept the man locked away, hoping he one day would be of use to him. That was the only way anyone had any value to the judge. If they could be used.”

Jefferson flinched with your implication but elected to ignore it for now. You needed a break. He knew it was a story you needed to tell. He wasn’t sure how you had found him worthy of hearing it but he was going to listen no matter how much it hurt. If sharing your pain was going to help you, then that’s was what he was going to do.

“Come,” Jefferson reached out his hand to you, smiling when he saw the bewildered look on her face as she stared at it. “Let’s find a way around and maybe eventually inside. First food.”

You felt your eyes tear up again at the kindness. It had been so long since you had let anyone close, you had almost forgotten how it felt. You hesitantly took his hand, and a huge smile spread across Jefferson’s face as he lead you along the riverside and towards what he hoped would be a square with cafés and a place to rest.


	3. Captive

You ate in quiet but Jefferson didn’t miss how your eyes wandered the square. No doubt taking it all in, remembering a life you once lived. He was curious about your story and how it had led you to this time and to Storybrooke but he didn’t push. He had his own painful memories and he knew forcing them forward did no one any good. Everything had to come in its own time.

“I was a gypsy. I am,” you mumbled, making Jefferson smile as you stated the obvious fact he had already guessed. He had seen you dance and teach the kids in Storybrooke to do the same. You always avoided David and Emma like the plague. He had seen your stubborn defiance with some of the townspeople, always assuming they thought you were stealing when he never once had witnessed that. Nor had they actually accused you of anything. It just ran in your blood he assumed.

His heart clenched when he realized he knew how that felt. People always expecting the worst of you. Only he had created that image for himself, whereas you it had been forced upon. It wasn’t fair. So instead of telling you, he knew he acted surprised. He overdid it of course. He always did. Causing you to huff in annoyance.

“You could at least be honest with me. If you already thought of me as a thief just say it. Did you check your pockets before we sat down?” you mocked and Jefferson lowered his gaze. It seemed as if he could never win with you. Maybe that was a good thing. A part of him longed to be reminded of what he could be. Grace’s mother had done that. He still missed her but you were different. Good different and Jefferson found himself increasingly captivated by you.

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t think you steal. I just know what it is like to always assume people think the worst. Not that it’s the same,” he rambled, only stopping in surprise when her hand gently rested on top of his.

“I’m sorry. I get defensive. You brought me here. You are listening to me when you don’t have too,” you spoke softly, realizing the sacrifice he was making. You weren’t going to run off on him or bring someone else back in his place. He just couldn’t be sure of that. You remembered the look on his face when his little girl ran up to him. She was his entire world and he was risking it all over some crazy stranger that kept yelling at him. You decided to do better from now on. It wasn’t his fault what you had been through. It wasn’t fair to judge him based on experience and stories you’d heard.  

“I danced the streets for money. I did little vanishing acts. It was just flairs and distraction but some of the guards thought me to be a witch. I honestly didn’t mind,” you spoke quietly. “It made some of them scared of me and they left me alone until…”

Jefferson gave her hand a small squeeze, letting her know he was still here listening. Not to push her. He never wanted to do that. He felt honored she was even still talking to him. Or talking to him at all. He was aware of the stories. He had caused the fear people had for him. He had held a gun on the savior and queen Snow after all. He was desperate, but he had made a lot of mistakes. People remembered them still. He knew you had to have heard them too. Your trust meant a lot to him, even if he couldn’t explain why. He hoped his meant something to you too. He was taking a huge risk coming here, but he felt safe with you now. You wouldn’t abandon him.

“Every year we held the festival of fools. It was a silly thing with masks and dancing. I danced at the festival every year ever since I can remember. First as a kid and then my own show. It was kinda like Halloween but not really,” you tried to explain making Jefferson smile, picturing her on stage, spinning around with that purple scarf of hers. That was a sight he wouldn’t mind to experience first hand. Maybe someday he hoped before her story tore him back to reality; listening to her words.

“Every year Quasimodo would watch from the tower and he wanted nothing more than to join. So one year despite the Judge’s orders he did. He joined and I met him. At first, I thought he wore a mask. We all did. He was dragged on stage but then the mask wouldn’t come off. First, everything was perfect. People thought he was amazing and he was crowned the king of fools. He was praised. It was still wrong but he looked happy. Until… they turned on him. Tying him up and throwing fruit,” your eyes teared up and you felt like pulling yourself closer to Jefferson. You needed comfort but you didn’t have a right to enforce yourself on him like that. He already did enough by listening.

You wiped the your eyes with the back of your free hand, missing that Jefferson looked as lost as you felt. He wanted to hold you but was pretty sure he’d be in danger of losing his head a second time if he pulled you against him. Instead he held on to your hand, hoping that his touch would ground you a little.

“You interfered, didn’t you?” Jefferson asked quietly and your eyes met his. Surprise was written all over your face when he just shrugged and smiled softly at you. “You seem like that kind of person that’s all. You got in trouble?”

“Yeah… I thought if just one person stood up to Frollo.” Your stomach turned when you spoke his name for the first time. You tried so hard to hide your fear and disdain but Jefferson much has picked up on something. You had never seen the man the people of Storybrooke seemed to still fear, but in a split second, you did. His face darkened and his jaw clenched. You weren’t scared for you though, you were scared for any person that evoked that anger in him. The madness. You had still told him nothing and yet you knew, had Frollo still been alive he wouldn’t have been for long.

You quickly took a deep breath giving Jefferson’s hand a small squeeze, letting him know you were alright and he appeared to relax back into himself.

“It wasn’t enough. No one followed. A few of my people helped me escape and I took sanctuary in the cathedral,” you nodded towards Notre Dame. “The deacon kept me safe but I was trapped. I don’t really do well inside stone wall for long,” you muttered, taking a deep breath. Your eyes met Jefferson’s, you knew you had to go inside. You knew you had to live through it all to let it go.

“Can we go in?” you asked, and Jefferson frowned. He knew you were strong but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. They way you had reacted to saying that name earlier, made him think that as horrible as this beast sounded, he was worse than anything Jefferson had ever encountered.

“You sure?” he asked softly and you smiled sadly, giving a nod.

“Just don’t let go,” you begged as they got up and you held onto his hand tightly. Jefferson gave your hand a squeeze in return, silently letting you know he wasn’t planning too. Not ever again if he could help it.


	4. Escape

Jefferson’s eyes widened as you made it into the cathedral. It was impressive on the outside but it didn’t compare the beauty of the inside. He had been to many worlds but he has never seen an as impressive building like this. Built from the ground up without the use of magic nonetheless.

His fascination soon ended when he felt you cling to his hand as if your life depended on it. This place should have been your sanctuary so why were you panicking like this. You dragged him down the hall and as you made it past the foyer you began to relax. Jefferson, however, had the opposite reaction. He felt his blood boil as a realization of what might have happened dawned on him.

He reached out placing both of his hands on your arms gently spinning you around to face him. His eyes sought out yours. They were filled with pain and he knew you realized what he suspected. He had to know for sure though. He didn’t care if the man was long dead. Part of him wanted to go home and work until he went mad yet again. He wanted to make a hat to travel back in time just to kill the bastard himself.

“Tell me he didn’t?” Jefferson pleaded with you. He hated the thought of anyone ever hurting you, much less like that. You were strong and beautiful. You were so full of life and even a spark of that being stolen from you by some creep centuries ago made Jefferson think back to all the methods of torture the French had invented by that time. Frollo deserved to suffer.

You were more than a little surprised by his reaction. It had been so long since anyone had ever acted protective against you. Never over this either. Never once had you shared the side of the story that Jefferson just seemed to sense in you with anyone.

You shook your head slowly and he appeared to relax a little, even if his hold on you stayed firm.

“He grabbed me. Sniffed me.” You shuddered at the thought but managing to still reach up and take Jefferson’s hands in yours.

“Nothing else happened here. He was creepy as hell. He pretended I somehow corrupted him, but he was kicked out before anything happened. I wouldn’t have let anything happen,” you insisted, trying hard as hell to believe your own words.

Jefferson believed them, however. He could tell you were feeling weak but he also saw your power and strength. He smiled sincerely, releasing your hands and holding out his arms, offering you a hug you gladly accepted.

“I know you wouldn’t. It’s okay not to be strong all the time though. If you need someone to lean on, I’m here,” he offered and he was honest. He had never been more honest about anything in his life. Grace was his world, but after just a few hours spent with you, he felt as if his world was expanding. You were earning your place in his heart and he hoped you would choose to take it eventually.

“Thank you,” you whispered, allowing yourself to be held for the first time in a long time. Jefferson felt safe, warm, and loving. You knew he would never do anything to harm you despite what people in Storybrooke said about him. You knew their view of him was wrong and he deserved a chance just like everyone else. You wanted to give him that chance.

Your heart skipped a beat when you pulled back a little to look up into his clear blue eyes and you smiled as a thought all of a sudden dawned on you.

“Come on,” you giggled, taking his hand dragging him off after you. Jefferson willingly followed you with a goofy smile on his face, just happy to see yours having returned. Or that it was present at all. Come to think if it he didn’t see you smile all that much, now that he did he wanted nothing more than to keep it on your face. He knew there was still though parts of your story to get through but after that. After you returned home. Jefferson was going to make sure you smiled a hell of a lot more than you had in the past. If you would let him that was.

He followed you through the halls to a hidden winding staircase that led to another and then a wooden one. Your eyes lit up in glee when you saw the room.

“I can’t believe this place is still here,” you exclaimed twirling around to see the puzzled but wondrous look on Jefferson’s face.

“What is this place?” Jefferson looked around to see wind chimes made from broken mosaics, perfectly carved wooden sculptures and a city that resembled what he imagined Paris must have looked like in the 1800s. Jefferson kept quiet as he watched you walk around the room, running your fingers over the surfaces before sitting down next to the table of the display.

“His home. Quasi lived here all his life. I can’t believe no one ever found it,” you muttered, but you words peaked Jefferson’s interest. He walked back towards the entrance to study it, finding exactly what he expected, but he didn’t say anything.

The entrance was guarded by magic. He figured the only reason he had been able to pass had been because you were holding his hand at the time. If the poor man living within these walls, really trusted and loved you as much as you appeared to love him, then putting a fail-safe in for you in case you returned wasn’t unthinkable.

Jefferson didn’t let you know though. He knew you’d realize what else the magic would have done. It kept the world out and the man that was forced to live in solitude to like in chosen insolation. Instead, he just sat down next to you, quietly watching the display.

His eye was caught by a figure that looked just like you. Dancing on the square with a small goat at your side and he couldn’t help but smile a little. The smile faded though when he looked over at you to see a tear slip down your cheek. He reached out taking your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze. He hated seeing you cry. He wanted your smile and laughter to return and he vowed he would make it so. Right now, however, he would just be here for you to live through the past you hadn’t been able to let go yet.

“You lived up here with him?” Jefferson asked, pulling you from your thoughts of the gentle man, few people but you had been lucky enough to really get to know.

You shook your head quietly, taking a deep breath preparing to tell the hardest part of your story. “No. Gypsies don’t do well inside stone walls. He offered me to stay with him, but I couldn’t. So instead, he helped me escape. Frollo had guards at all the exists but Quasi climbed the walls with me. He set me free and in return, I gave him a talisman that would help him find me if he ever needed my help. I promised I would return during the nights but…”

You hung your head in shame, knowing you had been forced to break that promise. You had never told your story to anyone before, but you also never pictured it would be this hard. Your mind still recalled the flames and how they dug into your skin as the smoke stole your breath.

Jefferson sensed how difficult this was for you and he took a deep breath. If you were willing to share this much with him, it was only fair he’d do the same in return.

“Do you know the story of how I became the Hatter? Have you ever heard that?” Jefferson looked to the floor, not able to meet your eyes as you looked over at him.

“Yeah. Regina, she trapped you in Wonderland?” you asked, a little surprised at his question. Even more by his sudden laughter as he shook his head, pulling down the collar of his shirt.

“No that’s how I became Mad. I had the hat long before I lost both my head and my mind,” Jefferson spoke using large gestures, but you weren’t fooled. Under his theatrics there was pain. You weren’t sure why but your heart ached for him and you wanted nothing more than to take it away. You reached out taking both his hands in yours and it somehow appeared to ground him. The man you had spent the past few hours with returned and gone was the show he put on for the world.

“Then tell me,” you offered gently, as you saw the tears press against his eyes. He nodded taking a deep breath, while you kept your hands securely in his. Hoping that your touch would offer him the same comfort that his had done for you.

“My father never wanted a third child,” Jefferson started the mere sentence tearing his heart wide open. If it wasn’t in Henry’s storybook he doubted that anyone knew this story. He also never wanted anyone to up until now.

“His first born was a strong son, that could help him on the farm. That one day would take over what little we did have. His second a beautiful daughter that might one day marry rich and bring us the wealth he never could. He loved my mother though so he was happy that she was happy. He accepted the pregnancy,” Jefferson spoke and you felt the rage burn inside your chest. A pregnancy should never just be accepted. A child should come into the world never doubting it was loved. Jefferson never had that and your heart ached for him, just like it had for the man that lived in this tower centuries ago.

“There were complications so his third child became the child that killed his wife,” Jefferson looked down. All of his childhood he was told he was a demon and that he was born evil. He never wanted you to see him like that. To his luck, you didn’t. Instead, you reached out, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, making him look at you.

“It wasn’t your fault. As tragic as it is, these things happen. You were just an innocent baby,” you said softly and Jefferson smiled sadly, leaning into your touch.

“My father didn’t see it that way. My brother either. My sister took pity and made sure I was fed and clothed. Until she married and moved away. I was seven.” Jefferson’s eyes teared up at the memory of losing the only resemblance to kindness he had known in his young life. “So I stayed in the barn. Leaving each morning before they could find me and beat me.”

Your mouth became a sharp thin line as you fought to not jump up and curse the God that should reside over this place. There was so much suffering in every world. So much hate. Even if he took care of the outcasts when injustice took their lives, why didn’t he intervene before it came to that? Why did your people have to suffer? Why did a small child like Jefferson?

“I became a thief. Stealing to get by until a traveler caught me. He worked for a theatre owned it actually. He gave me a job. He taught me how to be different people and how to put on the mask I guess I to some extent have worn ever since,” Jefferson admitted for the first time in his life. “When he was dying he told me his secret. He told me how he had come up with the stories he told on stage. He gave me his hat.”

Jefferson flipped the tall hat off his head and placed it on the ground between the two of you with a sigh. “It became my escape and my damnation. It has given me everything, but also taken everything away. It made me special for the first time in my life. If it hadn’t been for the hat I would never have met…”

He stopped all of the sudden not sure you wanted to hear this part of the story or if it was even right for him to tell it. You just smiled softly nodding at him to carry on.

“Grace’s mom?” you offered and Jefferson nodded. “I met her in Camelot. Priscilla. She was a thief too. We traveled to many worlds, procuring objects for people in trade of gold or whatever we needed at the time. We married when she fell pregnant so we settled down in the Enchanted Forest.” Jefferson squeezed the hand you had kept in his. “I vowed to never be like my father. I loved Grace from the moment I knew she existed.”

“I know. I believe you,” you assured him, smiling warmly when his eyes met yours. You weren’t telling a lie. You had seen him with Grace enough to know he would move mountains for his child. His love for her was what had made you decide to even trust him in the first place. A man that treated his daughter the way Jefferson did couldn’t be all bad. Now you were realizing that he wasn’t bad at all. Just as misunderstood as the man assumed to be the monster of Notre Dame.

“What happened to her?” you asked quietly, but regretted it the second you saw the tears stream down his cheeks. Without thinking you wrapped out arms around him letting him rest his cheek against your shoulder as you held him.

Taking comfort in your warmth, Jefferson tightened his hold on you and continued his story, knowing this was the part you might look differently at him for.

“I went to Wonderland. I had promised her I was done, but I was more like my father than I care to admit. I wanted more. Only I didn’t want Grace to provide it for us. I wanted them to have everything. Priscilla followed me and she ended up murdered for my crimes.”

Jefferson stiffened in your hold, but you didn’t let go. You didn’t stop the soothing motions you were drawing on his back.

“You couldn’t have known,” you tried to calm him, but he jerked back, wiping his tears. His eyes were dark with anger and for the second time, you saw why he scared people. He didn’t scare you however, you knew the anger was aimed at himself and not you.

“And I did it again. I lost Grace for decades, because of my greed,” he hissed, but you just shook your head. He jumped a little, surprised written all over his face when you took his hands again, but you didn’t let go. You wanted him to hear you.

“It wasn’t greed. You wanted better for your family. For your child. You don’t see it but that makes you the opposite of your father. You’re a good man, Jefferson. If I didn’t believe that I wouldn’t be here with you.” Your voice left no room for argument and his eyes teared him as he leaned into you, allowing you to embrace him once more. Maybe this last journey would gain him something he thought he had lost forever. Love.


	5. Paris Burning

Jefferson wasn’t really sure how long you sat holding each other like that, but he knew that it wasn’t long enough. His body ached for yours the be close to his again when you pulled away smiling sweetly at him.

“Come,” you held out your hand to him, feeling the butterflies in your stomach when he took it without hesitation. He wiped the tears from his eyes trusting you completely to lead him to the ends of the world if you wanted to. You didn’t. Instead, you led him to the balcony climbing the rails much to his protest.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, tugging his hat a little. “You got your hat to save us right? Not that we need it to fall through.”

Your teasing, made him roll his eyes but he still followed you to sit next to you. The view was impressive he would give you that, but it would still be impressive behind the safety of the railing.

“Frollo went crazy when he found out that I escaped,” you spoke quietly, restarting your story and instantly Jefferson’s hand found yours again. You loved him for that. His touch gave you the strength you needed to carry on.

“He hunted down my people. Locked them up. Those of us that weren’t hiding over there,” you pointed towards the cemetery. “We had this underground small city almost called The Court of Miracles. It’s how we were safe from men like him. Not this time, however. When he couldn’t get to us, he got to the people that normally took us in. He burned down houses sometimes with people inside.”

Jefferson saw the way you looked into the distance and heard the way your voice started to tremor. He knew you were blaming yourself just like he had earlier. He wasn’t having it.

“It wasn’t your fault. Nothing that happened. It was on him,” Jefferson gently, but firmly reminded you. You smiled sadly, giving his hand a small squeeze.

“If I hadn’t had hid…” you started and Jefferson shook his head.

“You don’t know. You can’t know. A guy likes that. The entire city might still have burned,” he said quietly and you nodded.

“It did. He tricked Quasi into thinking he knew where I was. So he came to see me. To warn me. Frollo followed him and he locked all the gypsies up. He put me on the pier claiming I was a witch,” you continued your story, smiling sadly at the confused look on Jefferson’s face.

“What does a witch have to do with him being insane and burning people?” he asked and you sighed.

“In my time. In this world. Magic was seen as wicked. All magic. Thousands of women were burned and drowned even if they had no magic. That’s how it disappeared from the world I think. People got scared to use it and it was forgotten.” Jefferson wore a look of disgust as you told him this and he couldn’t wait to leave this place. As bad as Regina was at least she had never been that insane and she was getting better. Storybrooke wasn’t that bad of a home he thought, smiling a little thinking getting back from this journey it might become better still. Grace would like you. He knew it.

“He tied Quasi up here.” You pointed to the balcony and the pillars behind you. Your motion tore Jefferson from his thoughts and he noticed you had started shaking. He, careful not to look down as he moved, shifted a little closer to you so your side was pressed against his with your hands still linked resting on your thigh.

“Frollo he… He told me to marry him. Share his bed. If I did I would be spared from the flames.” You felt Jefferson tense up next to you and you looked up into his eyes. “I spat in his face.”

A proud smile spread across Jefferson’s face. He still wanted to kill the guy even if he knew he was already dead, but you standing up for yourself was even better. Your strength and courage was admirable and one of the things Jefferson was falling for the hardest.

“I still feel the flames on my skin and the smoke going into my lungs.” Your eyes pooled with tears as you rested your head against Jefferson’s shoulder overlooking the city. “I don’t remember much after that. I remember Quasi swinging down and lifting me free. I remember the city catching fire and it looked like a sea of flames beneath us when Frollo followed him up here. I remember them fighting. I remember falling but I never hit the flames. A portal opened beneath me and when I woke up I was in Atlantis.”

You felt Jefferson’s arm around you, pulling you closer. Keeping you as if he was afraid you would fall and disappear once again.

“How?”

“I have no idea…” you began before a voice sounded beside you.

“We do…”

You screamed in surprise and Jefferson acted quickly, pulling you off the rail with him and shoving you behind his back. His eyes, however, was as wide as yours watching the odd sight of three very much alive gargoyles hopping towards you.

“What the hell is that?” Jefferson asked, emphasizing “that”, but before you could once again claim your ignorance the little round one spoke.

“We are gargoyles. I’m Hugo. That’s Victor and Laverne,” he explained, getting up close to Jefferson staring him down. Jefferson wasn’t quite sure what to make of the statue glaring at him but he didn’t like it one bit.

“Quasimodo brought us to life,” the tall one explained. “He passed on peacefully decades ago, but his magic still lingers.”

Jefferson wanted to protest and pull you back behind him when you stepped forward with a curious expression on your face. He, however, knew you well enough to know that would only get him punched so he stayed close to you instead.

“Magic? Quasi didn’t have magic,” you insisted and the female gargoyle smiled.

“He didn’t know he did for a long time. We never told him that him giving us life meant that he did. We thought he knew,” she explained, hanging her head. Apparently, rocks could have regret too, you thought.

“He was the product of true love,” Victor explained. “A savior. He rebuilds this city after it burned. He watched over it.”

“Frollo?” you asked and Laverne took your hand, to ease your mind.

“He fell. Burning with the old city. With Quasi’s help, new leaders rose. The city was reborn. His magic was unstable though. Opening the portal was his fear of losing you. He never figured out how to bring you back,” she spoke sadly.

“I was trapped under a spell in Atlantis for decades until I met a mermaid who freed me. Ariel,” you explained to the Gargoyles and Jefferson that stayed close against you, his arm resting comfortably around your waist. “It wasn’t Quasi’s fault. He saved my life.”

You looked up at Jefferson who smiled down at you, giving you the courage to move on. “She brought me to the enchanted forest. I was searching for a way home when Regina’s spell trapped us all.”

You spend a few hours in the bell tower, sitting with Jefferson listening to the gargoyles tell you of your friend’s life. He never stopped searching for you but near the end he found peace. He learned a way to look into your future using an earring you lost. The gargoyles didn’t know what he saw, but whatever it was had made him happy. Laverne had handed you a folded up drawing he made, before you left with Jefferson, thanking them for showing you their secret.

Jefferson was quiet when the two of you walked out of the cathedral. He kept his hand in yours but his mind was a million miles away. The two of you slipped through the square and down to the river by the old docks where Jefferson could work the magic of the hat without anyone seeing.

“Are you ready to go home?” was the first thing he said to you since the two of you were alone in the bell tower. You frowned stepping in front of him blocking him from throwing his hat.

“In a minute. What’s on your mind, Jefferson?” you asked softly, taking the hat from him and putting in on the ground next to you. You took both his hands in yours looking up into his eyes, trying to will him to talk.

“I’m sorry. I said I’d take you anywhere, but going back in time to see your friend… I don’t know how to do that,” he spoke quietly and you smiled. You truly had underestimated his kindness when you first met. He was nothing like you thought him to be but everything you didn’t know you wanted.

“It doesn’t matter,” you insisted but Jefferson didn’t feel any better. He wanted you with him and if he couldn’t take you back you wouldn’t stay. The bell ringer’s prophecy told him as much.

“The drawing…” he started and you finally understood. You shook your head affectionately, giving his hands a squeeze.

“The drawing won’t show me going back. It will show me moving forward,” you explained smiling at the confusion on Jefferson’s face.

“How do you know?” he asked, sadness still lacing his eyes.

“Because I know Quasi. My happiness would be enough for him to be happy,” you answered, letting go of Jefferson’s hands surprising him by wrapping your arms around his neck. It didn’t take long for him to respond and his hands came to rest on your hips as he looked down into your eyes.

Hope was starting to return to him but he still couldn’t let go completely. “Don’t you want to look?”

“No. I don’t want to see my future,” you answered, standing so close to him your breath warmed his lips. “I’d rather live it.”

You pressed your lips against his and Jefferson closed his eyes, pulling you close against him. For all you had both been through, you had still found each other. You had found love across worlds and times. A true love that was going to last for the rest of your lifetime.


	6. Epilogue

You were sitting in the sun with your back against the wall of your small house overlooking the lake. It had been a few months since your trip but a lot had changed. Jefferson had introduced you to Grace the moment you were back and after a few weeks, he had started the renovations of his big house.

He had turned it into an orphanage for the kids that still haven’t found their families after the curse. It was more than that though. It was a home run by him, a few of the dwarfs, and fairies. Snow stopped by a few nights a week to help with homework while you were up there every weekend teaching them how to dance.

You had bought a space behind the bell tower off Regina and were now running a proper dance school. You and Jefferson were now both acting as a welcome addition to Storybrooke and all because you had found a home in each other.

Your actual home was this small house by the lake just outside the city. It was overlooking the lake Grace loved to play by and situated right at the edge of the woods. You loved it here. You felt free and at home with Jefferson and Grace.

Right now you were home alone. The food in the oven keeping warm, waiting for your small elective family to return from whatever had been keeping them. You smiled when you saw them they both stopped at the edge of the woods, whispering before Grace giggled and turned back around running into hiding between the trees.

“Where have you two been?” you asked wrapping your arms around Jefferson’s neck when he sweetly kissed you hello.

“And what are you up too?” you laughed, pulling back seeing the playful glimmer in his eyes. “Should I be worried?”

“Always,” Jefferson raised his eyebrows teasingly before taking a dramatic step back flailing his arms. “We have a surprise for you.”

“Really, Jefferson?” You rolled your eyes as he stole your purple scarf from around your waist, stepping behind you and tying it around your eyes.

“Trust me,” his breath tickled your skin and a pleasant chill ran down your spine.

“Always,” you repeated with a smile, letting him gently help you down the steps before he called out for Grace.

The smile stayed on your face as you heard the giggles of the little girl fastly approaching you. She wasn’t yours, but you were starting to quickly feel that she kind of was. She was beautiful and kind; perfect just like her father.

You blinked a few times as Jefferson with all the theatrics he possessed, and you were sure he’d never shake, ripped the scarf from your eyes. They widened and pooled with tears as you saw the little goat standing by Grace’s side.

“Dwali!” you fell to your knees, opening your arms and the little guy rushed straight to you. “I thought I’d never see you again. He jumped after me when I fell. He was in Atlantis with me but I lost him when Regina’s curse rolled in,” you explained, clinging to the goat that kept nudging you.

“He’s been eating Grumpy’s beanstalks,” Grace giggled, making you laugh. “Can I show him around?”

“Yeah.” You stood up, smiling at the two of them. “Knock yourself out.”

“Well maybe don’t do that.” Jefferson grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His words caused Grace and your eyes to roll in sync before her and Dwali skipped away. Grace happily chatting to the goat.

“I recognized him from Quasi’s display.” Jefferson rested his chin on your shoulder and you reached back to run your fingers through your hair. You were happy. You never remembered feeling like this before. Bubbling and safe. You loved the man behind you and all you were creating together.

“Thank you,” you said softly as the two of you watched Dawli and Grace disappearing around the house.

“I never asked you, your name,” Jefferson said suddenly, making you laugh and turn around in his arms.

“What? You know my name.”

“I know your Storybrooke name,” he answered. “Regina didn’t create a lie for me so I was always Jefferson. But she named Grace, Paige. Y/N is the name she gave you, so what’s your real name?”

You smiled softly, touched by his words. He was right. The names we are given carries meaning. You would never think of Grace as Paige even if you remembered her going by that name once. You just got used to going by Y/N since you never felt quite at home here anyway. Now that you did, you were ready to reclaim the girl you once were.

“It’s Esmeralda,” you answered, watching him carefully for his reaction, but smiling when he did. Your smile quickly turned into a gasp when he released you and knelt down in front of you. He was holding a ring, created from the mosaics he had stolen from the bell tower of Notre Dame without you noticing.

“Esmeralda, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

                                                      ____

Inside a little house overlooking a lake by the woods was a small chest hidden away inside a closet. It held a lot of trinkets and happy memories but amongst them was a drawing. The drawing pictured a woman wearing a purple scarf around her waist and her arms rested over the shoulders of a beautiful blonde young girl. A little grey goat stood at their side, nudging the girl’s hand. Both woman and child were smiling as they watched a strangely dressed man with wild hair and piercing blue eyes cradle a few days old twins in his arms. His smile was as warm and loving. His eyes locked with the woman’s; silently expressing their love for each other and their 3 children.


End file.
